East Wind's Aftermath
by Sammie050301
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft have a fight after the events in Sherrinford. One-shot. (Could be read as a missing scene from The Impact of Three Little Words)


_Title: East Wind's Aftermath_  
_Rating: T_  
_Genre(s): Family/Angst_  
_Characters: Sherlock H, Mycroft H._  
_Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft have a fight after the events in Sherrinford. One-shot._

* * *

**East Wind's Aftermath**

When Eurus was six, Sherlock was seven, and Mycroft was fourteen, their parents took them to a football game. It was probably the closest thing to a normal childhood the three Holmes siblings would have. The shouts and cheers in the packed stadium echoed with joy, although it confused all three of them. It was so bloody _boring_. Around this time was when Mycroft picked up his goldfish analogy, Eurus had a loathing for humankind, and Sherlock began to notice things most seven-year-olds didn't. Sherlock was always dubbed as the slow one, perhaps it was because his emotions tended to get the best of him. In other words, he was the most normal.

Eurus and Mycroft made it through the entire game. Sherlock, however, had fallen fast asleep, his body leaning toward his older brother's. Mycroft could only watch him closely as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his brother's curls. He hoped the crowd didn't get too loud because it would wake his brother up. He looked so innocent while sleeping, younger than he actually was. Sherlock still was asleep by the time he came home. Mycroft carried him to bed and tucked him in, muttering a good night to his little brother whom he holds dear to his heart.

That was nearly thirty years ago.

Mycroft frowned as he casually walked into 221b Baker Street, noticing his brother was fast asleep on the couch, seemingly collapsed. Sherlock still had the innocent look when he was asleep, where he magically looked years younger. He still had that effect on people, but it especially effected Mycroft. And although he'd argue that caring was not an advantage, it most certainly wasn't voluntary. Sherlock looked so at peace while sleeping that Mycroft almost didn't want to wake him up like he hadn't done thirty years ago.

However, this _wasn't_ thirty years ago.

Mycroft tapped his umbrella three times loudly on the ground in the hope of waking his little brother up. Thankfully, to Mycroft, not Sherlock, he does just that. Sherlock is startled, sitting upright immediately, blinking multiple times before he realizes where he is, and who was the cause of him not getting any more rest.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the elder Holmes. "God, Mycroft, for someone who constantly complains that I get very little sleep you're being entirely hypocritical."

"Good afternoon, brother mine," Mycroft said nonchalantly as if nothing happened. He took the seat opposite of Sherlock. "Mummy called." Sherlock shifted positions so he was facing the couch and not his brother.

"Yes, she did," he said as if it were obvious. "Thank you for telling me, you can leave now."

Mycroft scoffed at his younger brother's immaturity. "And you claim I've upset her? Do be mature about this. She wants all of us to meet Eurus together... as a family."

Sherlock didn't know what to say. He wanted to be there for her, and only her, but he did not want to go with his parents. He could always hold disdain for Mycroft, but he knew his older brother did his best. Why hadn't his parents said anything to him about the matter? That he once had a little sister? Yes, they were betrayed too, by Mycroft telling them she passed, but it just wasn't fair. "No."

The elder holmes raised a brow. "It is out of the question. You _will_ be going."

"I'm not a child anymore, Mycroft," the consulting detective spat, finally standing up. "You can't make me do things I don't want to do."

"Firstly, you certainly are acting like a child. Secondly, I'm making you do this so Mummy won't be upset."

"Oh! So it matters when _Mummy_ is upset, but not me?!" erupted Sherlock, his eyes locked angrily on his brother. Mycroft would be lying to say that he wasn't taken aback by this outburst, but he wasn't exactly surprised either. The elder Holmes knew his little brother wasn't finished yet. "I don't think you understand what exactly happened to me. I had to... I had to relive all of that. I was left in the dark, Mycroft. I didn't know a single thing! The mind games, the torture, the hell of accessing my _feelings_." Sherlock spat that last word out like it was a swear. "Yes, the _sentiment_ as you put it. Horrible, disgusting... it was bloody awful. And now, I have to go through it again!"

Mycroft remained calm. "Caring is not a-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Sherlock roared, his eyes animalistic and dangerous. "No, _you_ don't get to say that. You don't understand! You just _don't_. I... I almost had to _kill_ you... Do you not get that?"

Mycroft felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Times like these made him realize that Sherlock had the tendency to get emotional. Mycroft couldn't help at times to picture Sherlock as the young boy he once was. However, he was a hundred percent willing to die for his brother. "I know," Mycroft said, trying to remain indifferent but failing. "I know this is difficult."

Sherlock merely glared at him. "It _is_."

"But think about how this is effecting Mummy, too," reminded Mycroft.

"She didn't tell me anything," Sherlock spat.

"It was to protect you, how is it any different from what I did?"

"That's the point!" Sherlock exclaimed. "You shouldn't have had to do this! None of this would've happened if... if I had been there for her. She could've gotten help... she... I don't bloody know! Things would be better, I know that for sure." And that's where part of the problem lied. Sherlock felt guilty for something he couldn't remember, that he had no way of knowing. Because he had erased his memories of her.

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, even if you did pay more attention to her, she was already long gone," he said this a bit sadly. "Even before that, when she was very young, something was not right. She displayed signs of psychosis and psychopathy long before you could do anything about it."

Silence stood still.

"...I didn't want to kill you," Sherlock said this time, a bit softer. "You do know that, right?"

Mycroft nodded. "Of course I did."

"You always understood how I thought," started off Sherlock, sighing. "You were always there for me."

"I still am," Mycroft supplied, looking at Sherlock with seriousness. "I am still going to be there for you. Always."

Although both brothers weren't exactly the most sentimental with each other, they both knew that they'd always be there for each other. And that's why immediately after their fight, the two brothers accompanied their parents in Sherrinford. Mycroft and his parents watched as his two younger siblings began to play violin duets. All is well.


End file.
